


handlebars

by Sarisia (Rrrowr)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fuckbuddies To Lovers, M/M, unrequited ooishi/kikumaru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-06
Updated: 2008-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/pseuds/Sarisia
Summary: Recklessly falling into relationships, it'd help if we all had something to hold on to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> repost from lj

01.  
Oishi remembers how it began: recklessly.  
  
It had only taken a moment.  
  
A split second to glance – him to Fuji and Fuji to him – and together they’d agreed.  
  
Oishi doesn’t know even now how he’d managed to read correctly into Fuji’s otherwise imperturbable expression. He only thinks that perhaps he had looked at the right time to catch the dark flare in Fuji’s eye that meant hunger and want, and Oishi had felt himself respond in kind before he could even think.   
  
“Will you be staying late today, Oishi-kun?”  
  
A nod. A caught gaze. “Yes.“ A breath. “There are some things that I need to take care of.” And while Eiji voiced his protest at his decision with a noise, Oishi asked, “You?”  
  
Fuji’s smile was all intent. At least, that’s how Oishi came to identify it.   
  
“Yes,” he’d said. “I think, will.”  
  
There was no reason for Oishi to have thought it would happen, though he'd _known_. He'd felt it in his heart even before he'd found himself cautiously pecking at Fuji's lips and cradling frail-seeming shoulders between his palms while Fuji quietly sighed his encouragement, pleased at the result yet wanting more.  
  
The air had been suddenly thick – the sounds around them were muffled beyond the moist press of their lips and the rough scratch of fabric as their hands slid beneath each other's clothing. Everything was warm – from the stroke of Fuji's palms along the back of his neck to his own fingertips finding the shallow bumps of Fuji's spine.   
  
Oishi knows perfectly well what he'd been thinking of (as the rush of want burned through him and he spilled in his own pants as Fuji and he had pressed and touched each other through their clothes): recklessly, he'd been thinking of Eiji.

  
02.  
Oishi loved Eiji. He really did. He loved that boundless energy and that endless drive and the way Eiji smiled and the way their tennis flowed and connected and battled as a seamlessly bound pair. There were times when Oishi could only see sweetness and kindness and an honest mischievousness, and often enough, he'd turned around and found Eiji as stubborn and powerful and as firm as any man among them.   
  
Too often, he forgot that.  
  
But Fuji.  
  
Oh, Fuji was wild and fierce and dangerous and everything that Oishi didn't think he would like in another person. Frustratingly, he was constantly many things at once. Always looked frail, always felt too slender and seemed too feminine, but at the same time, Fuji exuded power, demanding all that Oishi was offering and never letting Oishi take from him what he wasn't willing to give.   
  
There was a balance of both genders that reflected in each of Fuji's movements, and it teased and plied at Oishi's senses easily. Fuji could flutter his lashes like a girl and twist his body like a girl, and his body sometimes came to practice with the scent of berries, though that could have been because of another student's fawning.   
  
Despite those attributes, Fuji's hold on Oishi's dick was sure like a man's was sure. He stroked hard and fast, and he relentlessly pulled moans from Oishi's mouth, smothering the sound of them with wet kisses. And Fuji refused to let Oishi return the favor, one hand pressing Oishi's wrist against the lockers while his other hand squeezed Oishi in the circle of his grip, and he pressed close so that the only thing that Oishi could see as he came between them was the startling, vivid blue of Fuji's eyes.  
  
Oishi went slack against Fuji, kissing back blindly, struggling and failing miserably to stay standing. It was good and he told Fuji so – to which he received a light laugh and a stroke of fingers through his hair. It was really, really good, but he didn't think he could ever do this with Eiji without feeling guilty.  
  


03.  
So that's how it was. A glance and a word, perhaps, and by the end of the night, Fuji would be lying across cold concrete in the club house or over the wooden bench or, eventually, in the soft sheets of Oishi’s bed, and his arms would shove at the folds of their clothes or at Oishi’s pillows, and his back would arch under Oishi’s fingertips like water, and he’d muffle his cries in the crook of Oishi’s neck while he pulled Oishi further into the depth of him.   
  
Sometimes it would be different. Sometimes it would be Oishi spread in Fuji's place, trembling at Fuji's touch, shivering at every lilting word as Fuji told him what he was going to do and how, and Oishi would be clutching at anything he could get a hold of, helplessly lost and thinking: _this is what I make Fuji feel, this is what Fuji makes me feel and this is what we…_  
  
Reckless. 'What we recklessly do to each other.'  
  
Oishi hadn't thought about what he was doing. They weren't even out of high school yet, but that was no excuse. It's not like they could have a kid or anything – that was just ridiculous – but there were other consequences of sex, of prolonged and continuous connecting, departing, and reconnecting. It was always in his mind, the way they reacted off of each other.  
  
He could be with Eiji - admiring the way he went freely through relationships, doting on his girlfriends and bemoaning every broken heart - but even while he was laughing at Eiji's latest escapade, his heart didn't ache with it. He loved Eiji, but consequences, you know.   
  
In his head, Oishi was with Fuji.  
  
There were days on end that Oishi would receive some message – a text, a note in his locker, a look as they passed each other in the hallways – and he would know that the day would find him trapped in the presence of Fuji Shuusuke – wrapped in the heavy essence of power and fragility and certainty and insecurity – and he'd spend those days on end dealing with the rise and satisfaction of anticipation before he realized that he'd not thought of Eiji that week.  
  
He knew this, and he was afraid of what he knew it to mean.  
  
What had he been thinking?  
  


04.  
Oishi remembers once saying, "Fuji, I think we should stop."  
  
He had tried to stop, honestly, because he was in love and he had other priorities and he's got his whole life ahead of him and he doesn't want to commit to something (someone) just yet. Oishi's got every reason – some contrived and a few legitimate – to focus on anything (anyone) other than Fuji, anything other than the way Fuji tilted his head to the side at Oishi's words with a considering and pleased smile.  
  
"You can think so," Fuji replied and his tone was giving and patronizing and edged as sharp as broken glass.  
  
Oishi can't remember when he first started being able to hear what Fuji didn't say, but he could hear clearly, in the air between them, that cracking shatter-sound of painful surprise and the muffling of everything as Fuji hid it.  
  
In the curving smile and the almost thoughtless wave of his hand: "It's fine. Go ahead."  
  
So, Oishi shoved his hands in his pockets. "Are you really okay with this?" he asked with his brows raised. He knew, of course, that Fuji wasn't – knew and wanted to hear it for himself, wanted to shake those words and everything out of him. "Fuji?"  
  
"What do you want me to do?" asked Fuji instead. "I haven't said no this entire time, have I? What makes you think that I'll start now?"  
  
 _Nothing,_ Oishi thought. Nothing beyond himself. And he thought, perhaps it was good this way because no one would have to know, and it could be his … their secret, this relationship and every single one of Oishi's inclinations.   
  
But Fuji merely smiled at his silence, more good-naturedly than before, and petted his arm as he passed. The moment was silent, and Fuji's expression held no ill will, but guilt burned in Oishi's gut and stopped his breath cold.  
  


05.  
For a whole month, Oishi threw himself into his relationship with Eiji, eagerly drowning himself in their conversations and calling Eiji up when he couldn't stop thinking about Fuji – even when he knew Eiji was with his girlfriend and that she was complaining about Eiji's "clinging friend."  
  
"Oi _shi_ …," Eiji crooned over the phone. "You haven't called me this often since middle school. What's really wrong?"  
  
He wanted to say nothing, except that _everything_ had been bothering him lately. Simple things. Extraordinary things. Extraordinary that he didn't know the simple things about Fuji – like the kind of foods he liked to eat (though wasabi sushi was an obvious one) and if Fuji liked to play video games or if he liked visiting amusement parks. Oishi realized he didn't know Fuji's favorite ice cream flavor or which tennis court he preferred to practice on.  
  
Knowing well the body of his partner without knowing Fuji at all? That upset Oishi thoroughly, he was willing to admit, because he'd said stop because he'd been stroking his hands up Fuji's arms and seizing around Fuji's length and thinking that he'd been in love.  
  
"Fuji," he confessed into the phone and felt his throat close around the name. He gasped for breath, but then his teeth clenched; he could say no more than: " _Fuji._ "  
  
"What happened, Oishi?" Eiji asked, voice slight in Oishi's ear, but pressing. "Did you two… break up?"  
  
"Yes," Oishi shook his head and folded his hand over his eyes. "Yes. Maybe, I think – Yes."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Oishi," Eiji murmured. "I know how much he meant to you."  
  
Oishi choked, covering his mouth and sliding his palm past his chin. "You did?" he breathed and wanted, just a bit frantically, something to hold onto so that he could stop feeling so unbalanced. "How did you know?"  
  
"Well…." Eiji stalled. "It's just… he's all you ever talk about. I just figured that anyone that was in your head that much, you must love, yeah?"  
  
He thought for a moment of blurting out: "All I used to think about was you, Eiji," but the words never left his mind and he had the feeling that Eiji had already known. Oishi sighed on his end of the line. He heard Eiji's girlfriend whispering softly and heard Eiji's quiet reply. Oishi wanted that kind of moment desperately. He whispered his thanks and hung up.  
  
  
06.  
Oishi had his cell phone out as he ran. It rang several times without an answer. He called again. This time it was picked up on the first ring.  
  
"What do you want, Oishi?" Fuji asked - voice sharp, voice bitter. Oishi could tell even without seeing that Fuji was frowning tightly.  
  
He was running down the right block. He was standing at the right gate. He was looking at the window of the second floor, watching a shadow move past the curtains.  
  
"Oishi?"  
  
"You're home," Oishi replied.  
  
The shadow moved directly to the window. Oishi saw the curtains sway slightly. Then Fuji sighed. "What are you doing here, Oishi?"  
  
"I need to ask you something," he said. "Can you come down?"  
  
There was a startled pause. "What do you need to ask that you can't do over the phone?"  
  
Oishi felt his grip tighten around his phone. "It's important," he said. "But if you'd rather this be over the phone, that's fine."  
  
Fuji bit sharply: "I'd rather."  
  
The want to close his eyes, to deny how difficult this was despite his resolve, was strong. But he couldn't tear his gaze away from the dark form lingering at the window or the slight crack in the curtains through which Fuji watched him. It was Fuji's eyes on him that he felt; Oishi wasn't about to look away.  
  
"Do you like amusement parks?" Oishi asked.  
  
Fuji's laughter was a bark. "What are you-?"  
  
"Because I'd like to go to one with you," Oishi interrupted. "On a date. A real date. Not just this thing we've been doing." And now that he'd started, it was hard to stop. "Because I'd like to hold your hand in public and I'd like to love you properly, if you'd let me."  
  
Silence met his words. Fuji's shadow moved away from the window. The curtains slid shut once more.  
  
"Fuji?"  
  
But the line was dead. And Fuji was gone and panic rose in Oishi's chest - wondering if he'd read this incorrectly, if he'd been the only one to think this and want this, if at any moment the light in Fuji's bedroom would go dark and he'd never ever be able to get back what he'd lost.  
  
Then the front door slammed open and Oishi jerked his eyes down to ground level in time to see Fuji run down the walk and jerk open the gate, in time to gather Fuji in his arms when he threw himself there.  
  
Fuji's arms locked about Oishi's neck.  
  
"Fuji?" Oishi murmured, and pressed his nose to the paper-thin skin beneath Fuji's ear.  
  
"You're an idiot," Fuji muttered back and clung tighter. "I- I haven't said no so far, have I? What makes you think I'll start now?"


End file.
